


Five Platonic I Love Yous from an Avenger (and a Special Romantic One)

by ems_specter



Category: Iron Man: Armored Adventures, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alive Howard Stark, Alternate Universe, Combination of Marvel Cinematic Universe and Iron Man: Armored Adventures, Howard Stark's Good Parenting, M/M, MCU AU, Single Father Howard Stark, Teenager to Young Adult Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 00:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11680128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ems_specter/pseuds/ems_specter
Summary: “I love you.”“I know.”“Great. You just ruined the moment by Han Solo-ing me.”“Please. It wouldn’t be us if we don’t have ruined moments.”





	Five Platonic I Love Yous from an Avenger (and a Special Romantic One)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know. I like the idea of a teenager Tony and Howard being an actual good dad.
> 
> This isn't beta'd or edited, so I'm sorry if there are grammatical errors. Also, most of you will probably notice this, but sometimes my spelling would switch from American-English to British (English)-English. I switched my MS Word's language/keyboard to English (UK) soooo. Yep.
> 
> PS. I'm sorry couldn't get Thor and Loki's language right. It's hard. :(((

**_1._ **

Waking up in an unfamiliar world was terrifying. It may be the same earth but everything was so _different_ yet frighteningly the same. The noise and the crowd and chaos have remained, but everything was moving too fast too soon.

Steve was man enough to admit the new century was daunting and oh how he wished to be back in his own time, having that dance with Peggy, mourning his lost best friend as they fought the war. Perhaps he would have had children who would have grown up to Howard Junior’s age, maybe not as brilliant but would definitely be twice as deadly.

Instead, he woke up decades ahead. Almost everyone he knew was six feet under—Howard had a son and a grandson, Peggy moved on with her life and had children and grandchildren of her own. It was foolish, how he thought she would have waited for him. He was dead, wasn’t he? Then why was there an ache in his chest he couldn’t shake?

What he was quite ashamed to admit was how he probably wouldn’t have made it with one Tony Stark.

The boy, because that is what he is, was Stark’s grandson. He was every bit as brilliant his grandfather (and his father) and then some. Tony had a certain charm about which came naturally, a kind of charm his old friend never had. Tony didn’t even have to try to have everyone wrapped around his tiny little fingers. He was brash and sarcastic but was also gentle and kind. He was a contradiction wrapped in a teenager’s body. He was innovative, far beyond his time, as some would say, and Steve could see how proud Howard was of his only son.

When the Avengers Initiative was first introduced to him, he was surprised to see a boy of seventeen to be a part of it. He had to contact Fury to confirm that _yes, a teenager was a part of the initiative, no it was not a fucking joke, stop being so fucking judgmental, Captain, he’s a good kid_. He was wary at first, not wanting to put a child in battle, but seeing the Iron Man armor in action from a few news recordings, he had to admit the kid was good.

That did not prepare him for meeting the boy, though.

Steve had quickly assumed Tony would be like most of the teenagers he had encountered after waking up—rude, arrogant and self-absorbed. He wasn’t like that, though. Well, maybe not as annoying, but still, not like any other teen.

The young man quickly took him under his wing, as if it was his duty to take care of a defrosted ninety something year old man in the body of a twenty-six year old. Tony quickly but patiently taught him technology he missed, references he couldn’t understand and took him out to see how being in a time different from what he knew wasn’t so bad.

Soon enough, even with the short age difference, Steve started to see Tony as his own son. Sometimes he could keep his mouth shut, could avoid calling the boy little names like kid, sweetheart or son, could avoid puffing his chest out and saying proudly, _that’s my boy_ whenever Tony did something incredible, could avoid taking the boy in a firm hug, kissing his forehead and murmuring how proud he was of him.

But most times, he would slip up and call Tony these little names and the boy would have this bright smile on his face and Steve let himself slip of more and more. It wasn’t like he was trying to replace Howard, but he couldn’t help but treat Tony as his own because it was hard not to. So knowing Howard was okay with Steve practically acting as Tony’s father was quite a relief.

(“I think another parental figure would be good for him. He’s lost his mom at such a young age that I feel like I’m not really enough.” Howard had confessed once, when a mission landed Tony to the hospital.

He wanted to shout, _no, no, you’re enough. Tony adores you like you hung the moon and the stars_. He kept his mouth shut, though, knowing it wasn’t what the other man needed.)

Now, celebrating Tony’s eighteenth birthday with just the three of them, Steve couldn’t help but pull the young man into his arms and murmur, “I love you, kiddo.”

And if there were tears in his eyes, he knew Tony wouldn’t tell anyone.

**_2._ **

Natasha was never an outwardly affectionate person. It was a sign of weakness, caring for someone and showing the world who you care about was a scream for trouble. People would use them against you, hurt them to hurt you, kill them to kill you, so she just kept her distance from everyone. It was safer, not just for her but for the general populace.

Of course, there would be a small number of people who would get through the cracks, would get under her skin and make their home there, constantly putting her on edge, a reminder of her weakness, her _humanity_. They would plant themselves in her life, unyielding as if saying ‘no, this is my home now and you can’t make me leave.’ It was annoying and amusing and simply _astounding_ , how some people could simply bulldoze their way in her life, unafraid.

The first one to get through her was Agent Barton.

It was unexpected, of course. She was his mission and he was hers. No one has ever beaten her before, even when she fought without cheating. She was on the ground, an arrow stuck on her right shoulder and a bullet lodged on her left thigh. For all intents and purposes, Barton could have killed her—she was weak and had underestimated him, her first mistake. Instead, he put his bow away, raised his hands to show he would be harmless. That was a mistake, even at her weakest, she knew she could take him once he stepped close. But she let him get close.

Barton patched her up. She was wary, of course. He was the enemy, sent to kill her, not retrieve.

It took a week, too long for someone with her healing ability, before they were set to leave. Barton took her to S.H.I.E.L.D., defended her when what they wanted was have her eliminated, ‘She’d be a great asset and you know it.’ He had said to the man with an eyepatch. Not that she actually heard him, seeing as they were in different rooms, but she could read lips.

After six months of working together, she thought he finally deserved to be called by his given name.

The second one to get under her skin was Agent Coulson. It was slow going but somehow inevitable. Coulson was as wary about everything as she was, but he was better at playing the game than she could ever hope to be. He let people underestimate him, see him as weak. She didn’t realize his tactic until he had a gun pressed against her temple, both her hands on her back held by his strong grip. She shuddered, suddenly afraid because he didn’t even seem like he was trying to incapacitate her, as if he was simply acting on _instinct_ and that, _that_ was terrifying, going against a man who found fighting as nothing but second nature, as if he was born to fight and, perhaps, kill.

She gave him a large amount of respect after.

Fury. Well. She respected the man, was loyal to him, but they were not _friends_. She knew Fury saw potential, used it and improved it. He was a valuable ally and she knew he was aware keeping a sort of leash on her would be beneficiary. She wouldn’t betray him, probably not ever, not unless it was a choice between him and either Clint or Phil.

The one person she hadn’t expected to get under her skin was Anthony Edward Stark.

The boy was annoying, and that was putting it mildly. He never stopped talking, he was constantly moving, he was sarcastic, he had no respect for boundaries and he was arrogant. He didn’t care about rules, he saw the world as his own playground and he was _horrible_ at taking orders.

That was her initial assessment of the boy.

Fighting alongside the young Stark, she saw how he wore his heart on his sleeves. He let the whole world know he cared somehow, was overly protective of the people in his immediate circle—his father, Rhodes, Potts and, more recently, Rogers. He made it known to the world he would kill for them and would gladly take their place in death.

Tony Stark was contradiction personified—he was an open book but was difficult to read (well, decipher, more like). He would say one thing but do another. He seemed to have no self-preservation instincts but he was a good judge of character and could analyse situations quickly. He was quick to adapt and could always think of the most brilliant plans but he would never gloat about it.

He would be a great asset.

And so she watched.

Both Phil and Fury seemed to have a soft spot for the boy which, considering who they were, was somewhat… _odd_. They never hesitated to scold the boy but they would quickly come to his defence, verbally annihilating anyone who would harm the boy. It was confusing, especially to her, how the boy had two of the most dangerous men alive wrapped around his little fingers.

Captain Rogers never made it a secret how he saw the boy as his own son. He would sling an arm around the boy’s shoulders, pull him into a hug, kiss his forehead and ruffle his hair. He had a smile reserved for the younger Stark alone and he beat a man bloody the one time Tony was kidnapped.

This proved how dangerous a super soldier could be.

Clint, Clint has always given people the benefit of the doubt, had always given people the chance to let the _goodness_ in them shine through until he was proven otherwise. He’s had a soft spot for the younger Stark since the beginning and seemed to be falling even more in love with the boy.

(Not romantically, of course. Clint had a wife and children and she could tell the boy reminded him somehow of his own children.)

It has been months but she still couldn’t figure what made Tony Stark so special that most people she trusted adored him.

Until being Black Widow finally caught up with her.

It was supposed to be a standard mission but she was somehow caught off guard by a third party.

Before she could finish her mission, she was knocked unconscious, not waking up until she was tied to a metal frame, her legs and arms spread. Her state of undress clued her in on what kind of torture she would be experiencing and she knew it wouldn’t be fun. _They’re starting with the big guns_ , she thought to herself.

She had training on how to detach herself from, well, herself, when torture was involved. It proved to be a useful skill, since it would always be best to stay firm in one’s resolve when being tortured. _They would kill you once they got what they want, anyway_ , a voice from her past whispered in her ear.

The problem was, she hadn’t detached herself from a situation in a long time and it was proving to be difficult. She simply hoped she would have detached herself before her would be tormentors arrived.

Then the explosions started.

She was startled out from building her defences by the loud sound. Screams and gunshots followed, then the door burst from its hinges, giving her peak of the Iron Man armour, then Clint was rushing inside the room, quickly slicing through the thick ropes.

Later, when she was safe in the Quinjet, Clint would quietly tell him how Tony was the only reason they found her quickly. She thought the boy would gloat, tell her she owed him, but he never said anything. He didn’t even hang it over her head when he asked her for a favour.

On one of her many sleepless nights, when blood and death embraced her, she sat on the kitchen counter, lost in thoughts until the lights suddenly turned on. Her reflex was to throw the first item she could reach; it was a knife.

When she was back to herself, she realized it was Tony, staring at him with wide eyes even if he had dodged the knife.

She cursed herself and quickly jumped off, exiting the kitchen.

“I’m making hot chocolate.” Tony’s soft voice reached her ear. She should leave, she knew, but somehow, she walked back to the kitchen, stared the boy down until he started shuffling around the kitchen, pulling a pot and two mugs, cocoa powder and some milk and sugar. She sat at the table, watching the boy’s movement.

Somehow, they managed to remain civil, their conversation flowed easily, which was quite confusing. After finishing their hot chocolates and washing the mugs and the pot, they went their separate ways. Meeting at night for hot chocolate, though, especially after rough nights have become routine to them.

Months later, after Tony almost got killed for saving Natasha, she realized there truly was something special about the boy.

Standing by Tony’s hospital bed, she kissed the boy’s forehead and said, “Get well, _[solnyshko](http://learnrussian.rt.com/speak-russian/tender-words-russian)_. I love you.”

She left, a soft smile on her face, knowing the boy heard her.

**_3._ **

Clint has always had a soft spot for misunderstood youth. He was once one, so giving someone a chance to prove themselves was natural to him. He always took time to figure out why they do the things they do or say the things they say. He took time to learn their stories and how they plan to live their lives.

Tony Stark, though, Tony was different, somehow.

At first glance, it seemed like he was the classic rich boy but with the bonus of being a genius.

He was crass and sometimes downright rude. He acted as if the world should be grateful he was born and was giving it his precious time. There were times he would not stop talking and he was insanely sarcastic to boot. With the mouth the kid has, it was a cry for trouble.

At first, Clint couldn’t find a reason for the kid’s attitude. Howard was a nice man and he obviously cared about his son. He looked at the boy with pride and pure love. It was obvious Tony adored him, too. But the attitude was genuinely confusing because from what he was seeing, Tony Stark grew up in a loving home with a loving father. Sure, his mother was gone but his dad poured all his love to his only son.

Then he started to watch how most people outside of the Stark family’s circle interacted with the boy.

It was downright disgusting.

Most people approached Tony for favours, knowing how wealthy the Stark family was. Some wanted the fame which came with being associated with a Stark, especially the bright boy filled with ideas beyond anyone’s imagination. A handful wanted an edge against Howard, wanting to use Tony to get intel on his father’s latest projects. Obviously, the boy verbally murdered anyone who tried. He was young, not stupid.

And so Clint started protecting the boy more and more—from taking him away from groups social climbers and serving as a sort of shield from anyone who had ulterior motives, to bringing him food in the lab or teaching him how to use other weapons. He knew Steve did his best to keep the boy fed but the blond couldn’t exactly take care of Tony twenty-four-seven.

Months passed, leaves changing from one colour to another and Clint had gotten even closer to Tony. It wasn’t difficult, really, if you tried hard enough and saw past the façade, Tony wasn’t difficult to love. The boy cared beyond what most would expect of him. He cherished every moment he had with the people he loved, sharply but subtly watching everyone, eyes moving quickly, cataloguing every information he could. He showed kindness beyond what someone his age could give, prioritizing everyone else’s wants and needs over his own, hiding behind arrogance so no one would realize this. He created magnificence with his small but strong hands, aspired to make people’s lives better with what he made. He understood people in a way not even themselves could, nudged them in directions which would help.

“…and that, ladies and gentlemen, is the beginning of the future.” Tony ended his presentation with a flourish, a loud round of applause responding to him, shaking Clint out of his reverie. He checked the perimeter once more, making sure Tony was safe.

(After Tony’s fourth kidnapping since the Avengers began, they decided the boy should be accompanied by at least one of them when he was away on non-Avenger business. His usual bodyguards were good and would do anything for the boy since they all adored him, but normal humans never stood a chance on other ‘supers’ so it would simply be safer to have at least one Avenger with him whenever possible, no matter how much the boy protested.)

“ _It’s clear on my side._ ” Nat said through the comms.

“Clear on mine.” He responded and made his way towards Tony, making sure he would be around if the boy needed protection.

“I really don’t need a babysitter, you know.” Tony said petulantly when he reached him. He knew it was all for show, that even though Tony wasn’t enjoying being chaperoned by an Avenger, he liked knowing they cared enough to wasn’t to guard him.

“Love you, too, kid.” He smirked and put his arm around Tony’s shoulders, pulling the boy into a one-armed hug. It was telling how Tony sagged against instead of pushing him away as they headed out, Natasha waiting for them to make sure everything was going to be okay.

**_4._ **

Bruce has seen his fair share of eccentric. Being a genius made sure of that. It was an unfortunate truth, being smarter than everybody else could make you feel alone, as if no one could really understand you. But his genius status did help with giving him the opportunity to go to college and beyond that.

(He didn’t blame his mind turning him into a big green monster, though. It was his own naiveté which landed him in such situation, of how he trusted the wrong person.)

He prided himself with being able to adapt to situations he didn’t expect and to people who did the unexpected.

Tony Stark, though, was a whole new ball game.

The boy was a genius, albeit not on the same level as he was during Tony’s age. The kid was like a sponge, absorbing as much information as he could and, though not mastering it, used it to his advantage. He had a certain thirst for knowledge Bruce had missed. He could keep up with Bruce no matter how complicated the topic may be and when he couldn’t, he was willing to listen and have it explained to him and would proceed to learn more beyond wat was taught. The boy was open minded and seemed to lack any type of self-preservation instincts.

(He would know, since the first time they met, Tony had a certain spark in his eyes, told him he was a fan of how he could turn into a giant green rage monster then proceeded on trying to force the big green out.)

Tony seemed so complex sometimes, doing one thing but saying another. He spoke quickly, as if he was desperate to get the words out as soon as possible because his mind was moving too fast. He didn’t trust easily and was never hesitant to show it, but he never failed to look for the good in people. He seemed jaded at first glance but as one got to know him, he appeared to be naïve to a fault, figuring out why people did what they did, even when it’s bad.

Tony wasn’t perfect, he was far from it, really. If he felt like the person deserved it, he could be downright cruel. He was not afraid to speak his mind, especially when it came to defending people he loved. He was proud of his genius and never hesitated to say so, even if people ended up calling him arrogant and self-absorbed. Bruce couldn’t really find a fault about this attitude of Tony’s, because he knew from experience how frustrating it could be when surrounded by people who couldn’t keep up but still pretended to know more than they did. Their approaches were different, admittedly, since he simply kept to himself because the only person who could keep up with him was himself, while Tony pushed people to learn more to have someone to bounce his ideas with. He _encouraged_ them, in his odd little ways, to yearn for knowledge as much as he did. He never let people bully him into submission simply because he was what they called ‘nerd’ and Bruce adored him even more because of that.

(He recalled Steve telling him that perhaps he and Tony wouldn’t have gotten along if Tony didn’t realize how lost he felt, how alone and left out he was after waking up. Tony could be too loud, too tactless for Steve to not see him as a bully. Sometimes the boy would disobey a direct order from him because he saw something no one did. For all intents and purposes, they shouldn’t have had the good start they got, but because Tony saw right through Captain America and took a long, hard look at _Steve Rogers_ , and everything was as easy as it could be when dealing with one Tony Stark.

He recalled the fondness in Steve’s voice and face and words as he spoke of the boy, their little genius.

“Contrary to popular belief, Tony _is_ perceptive.” Steve had said while they both took a breather out in the balcony, the large amount of people suffocating them both. “I think he surrounds himself with people to study them, like an experiment.” The blond had a small smile on his face, telling Bruce he was quite amused with the knowledge of Tony treating people as experiments.)

“How is he?” Bruce looked up from his tablet as Howard, Steve not far behind, walked towards him and Tony as he loosened his neck tie. To anyone, it would seem as if he wasn’t worried at all, but Bruce has slowly learned to read the older Stark and knew the man was worried.

“His fever’s gone down, just some cough and cold remaining. He’ll probably be well enough in a few days—a week at most. I still want him to rest beyond that but,” he shrugged and put the tablet down on the sofa’s arm rest, then glanced at the boy who’s resting his head on his lap, his unruly hair the only part of him visible from under the blanket he’d curled himself in, “you know how he is. He’d go out of his mind resting so I’ll need someone to keep an eye on him as much as possible.”

Howard breathe a sigh of relief, slumping ever so slightly. Steve moved closer to the older Stark and placed a loose arm around his shoulders, an indulgent smile on his face and _oh. When did_ that _happen_? Bruce thought to himself, suppressing as smile as Howard unconsciously leaned into Steve’s touch.

“I told you he’s fine. Bruce is taking care of him.” Steve said, now gently steering the brunet out of the room towards the elevator, probably to either feed him or ask him to get some rest. “Bruce knows what he’s doing, Tony’s safe with him.” Bruce has long given up on telling them he’s really not that kind of doctor since he would still end up patching them all up.

“He’s never gotten sick before. Never even caught a _cold_! I’m pretty sure…” Howard’s frantic fading voice was cut off when the elevator doors finally closed.

Bruce looked at Tony or, well, of what part of him was actually visible and shook his head with a small, fond smile. He let one hand drop down to the boy’s hair and let his fingers tangle with the unruly locks as his other hand picked up the tablet once more.

“You’re lucky I love you, kid.”

**_5._ **

When Thor came to Midgard, he didn’t expect to be part of a team who defends it. He was an Asgardian prince and his duty was to serve and protect his own people. He didn’t expect to fall in love with Midgard and her people, of how, even when they do the cruelest acts, they were still able to show compassion and kindness and love. They were a weak race, Thor had observed, but it didn’t mean they would not defend their home with fierceness.

Captain Rogers and the Hawk were after his own heart. He could see warriors in them, men who faced battles and reigned victorious, even with various battle scars, both seen by the eyes and ones which were hidden. In Banner, he was reminded of his mother’s grace when performing acts of magic, of the precision of his movements and the gentleness of his voice when he spoke. The Hulk, though, was an untrained warrior but a warrior, nonetheless. He was a worthy ally and was even more of a worthy foe during drills. The Widow sometimes reminded him of his brother but in a deadlier way. She had tricks on her sleeves, ways to fool an individual if one wasn’t careful. He could see viciousness hidden beneath her sweet, innocent face.

His favorite perhaps, if he were to choose one, was young Anthony.

The boy was young, barely an infant compared to him, but he was a warrior, nevertheless. His suit of armor was powerful and even without it, he possessed a certain level of danger about him.

(“My great aunt, Peggy, she wanted me to learn how to fight. When she got too old, though, she passed me on to Aunt Sharon, her niece. I also have Coulson and Fury on my case, forcing me to train so here I am—small but deadly.”

The boy had jested once when they were the only ones left awake. It was just a week after Anthony had turned nineteen.

Even as young as he was, Thor could detect a certain weariness in the boy’s voice. He then remembered overhearing the boy’s father conversing with the Captain. _He is his mother’s son. Always taking care of others without giving his own safety a second thought_. The man had sounded weary but proud. _He takes on the weight of the world, even if it’s not his responsibility_.

Thor had thought back to that night, watching the boy’s face as he stared out the city.)

Anthony— _Tony_ —reminded him quite a lot of his mother as well. He was graceful when he was in front of his computers, images floating all around him, the blues and reds and yellows reflected on his wide brown eyes. The way his hands moved was fascinating, as if he was creating one thing or another out of thin air. And when he looks into the boy’s eyes, he could see Loki’s mischief—one which could range from completely harmless to emphatically humiliating. The kindness which Loki hid from the galaxies but openly showed to him and their mother (and now with the addition of Tony and Natasha) was clear in Tony’s warm whiskey orbs whenever the boy was around his father and Captain Rogers, and the rest of their little group.

Being reminded of home wasn’t the root of his fondness for the boy, though.

Tony was smart beyond imaginable. He was a creator, a magnificent one, and seemed to find enjoyment breathing life into everything he touched. He was kind but with a guarded heart. He possessed an allure most would be envious of but he hardly used it for truly selfish reasons. He filled silence with chatter to keep them from losing their minds when the stillness was too consuming, too stifling, but he knew when to take pause, to listen, _truly listen_ , when it was needed of him. He seemed impatient and crass and reckless, but after Thor had the chance to carefully observe him, it seemed every risk Tony took was calculated, an assurance it was bound to be worth it.

At the moment, though, Thor wondered if Tony had ever considered his own safety as part of the equation.

A portal, much like the purpose of their own Bitfrost, opened so suddenly, catching all of them off guard. He was familiar with the creatures pouring out of the portal, but could not, for the life of him, remember what they were. From the tightening of Loki’s lips, though, he realized his brother might recall what these creatures were.

The battle was difficult, even more than it typically tended to be. He was exhausted, both he and Loki, which was difficult to achieve even with their most difficult foes before. So for him and Loki to tire themselves, he couldn’t begin to imagine what their human counterparts were currently feeling. Every time it appeared as if the numbers of the creatures were decreasing, more would come out of the portal a short moment later, only giving then a second to breathe.

“ _I think I know how to stop these_ ,” Tony’s voice came through, his voice weary, as the creatures slowly appeared once more through the portal, “ _these,_ things _, whatever they are._ ”

“ _How?_ ” Natasha’s voice sounded rougher, a little breathier, an obvious sign of fatigue.

“ _I found something that might stop them._ ”

“ _How can we help?_ ” The Captain asked, breathing heavily. Thor could hear Steve grunt, most likely caught off guard, while he threw Mjölnir at the one ready to attack Loki. His brother gave him a nod and went back to fighting.

The silence on Tony’s end was quite lengthy, enough to worry him and undoubtedly the rest of their team, when Tony’s voice came through, “ _Just trust me._ ” Thor shared a worried look with Loki, but they couldn’t let themselves be distracted at the moment.

It felt odd, the way Tony asked them to trust him, but he couldn’t figure out _why_. Well, not until he saw the Iron Man armour flying straight at the portal carrying what Thor knew was Midgardian weapon.

He knew that could be a dangerous weapon.

“ _Tony._ ” Steve sounded broken, pained, probably seeing what Thor had seen. The captain probably knew more than he did but he was just as afraid. “ _Son, that’s a one-way trip._ ” The captain choked, as if he was barely holding himself together.

“ _I know._ ” Thor heard the response a few moments later and, from the way his brother seemed to take pause, the heaviness in Tony’s voice was evident.

He heard two soft _beeps_ from his earpiece, which meant Tony switched into a ‘private feed’ and that for now, he was cut off from either all of the Avengers or to those who should not be privy to what he wanted to say.

Later, when the battle was over, after they all watched the weapon (a nuke, Tony called it) exploded on the other side of the portal, as they all watched the Iron Man fall and Loki bellowed at him to catch the boy while he’s already preparing for flight as the armor continuously fell, and after Banner— _Hulk_ —managed to catch the boy and gently laid him down on the ground, the captain quickly tearing the face plate, cupping Tony’s cheeks, _come on, Tony, come on, son. Wake up. Your father will castrate me_ , and then those eyes finally snapping open, Thor would fully realize that a _boy_ almost died sacrificing himself for the world. Later, as they went to Stark Tower to get their much needed rest, Thor would pull Tony to him and hopefully shake some sense into the boy.

“Tony, I need you to listen.” Thor would say gruffly, holding the boy’s face, his delicate face, between his large hands, “You are a brother to me and I love you. Nothing is worth sacrificing your life for, do you understand?” He would have pressed his fingers firmer at the back Tony’s head, to urge him to understand as the smaller man stared at him with wide eyes. “Please, do not undervalue your life. You keep us together and losing you would mean losing ourselves.”

And as the boy choked a soft, _okay_ , Thor would pull him into a bone crushing hug, still mindful of how fragile the boy’s body was. And then, over the top of Tony’s head, he would see Loki’s smile of approval and the rest of the team’s warm gazes locked on them, specifically on the boy in his arms.

**_+1_ **

Bucky was self-aware enough to know something was wrong with him. Being under the control of Hydra would do that, even if he was only ever out for missions (which were rare, to be honest) and reprogramming before and after his missions. It would fuck anyone’s mind, especially when one remembered every kill.

_Headshot. Precise and quick. Asset could easily run if needed._

_A long, thin blade through the back of the neck; paralyze target. Interrogate._

_Asphyxiate target. Break target’s neck. Slice wrists. Should look like a suicide._

_Accident._

So, yes, he was not the poster boy for good mental health but he was pretty sure none of them were.

Steve had lost so much time, asleep the whole time—at least Bucky was awake now and again, was able to catch up on trends and the like because he needed to blend in. Sometimes, he would look at the blond, see him staring at nothing, lost in thought and Bucky knew he was probably reminiscing what it was like with the Commandos, the time was ripped from.

(Tony and Howard helped Steve a lot, he could see that, the latter probably more so since they began to explore their romantic tension—Tony’s incessant babbling and Howard’s silent support reminding him _now_ exists and the past was not something he should be holding on to, that it was something he should _let go_ because holding on would be deadly).

Natasha—he remembered her, a little girl, no older than _four_ , who looked at him with barely hidden awe whenever he moved for a kill, as if he created the galaxies. He remembered what he taught them, what everyone before him had taught them. He has read the files S.H.I.E.L.D. had on her and it was _bad_. She might have been trained to kill, trained to withstand torture, trained to _not feel_ anything every time she would slit someone’s throat but she was only human and he could still see that little girl in her eyes sometimes.

(On one memorable night, when both he and Natasha were plagued with nightmares and only had each other for company, she had said, “You taught me how to be a killing machine,” he flinched, ready to run, but she continued, “but you also taught me how to be a human.” He tilted his head confused. She smiled, “You told me I did a good job.”

After, weeks later, he would lie in bed and realize she wasn’t the only one who learned how to be a human that time.)

Clint and Thor, they were both soldiers in their own right. They have always fought for the people, protecting innocent lives and have gone against many. They’ve seen horrors nobody would even dream of and they survived, they surpassed every nightmare they encountered and lived on. They fought, kept on fighting, for the greater good.

(Thor was a naturally jolly person and Clint always had a joke at the tip of his tongue, sometimes a challenge to get the ball rolling.)

Bruce. He was a little more relatable. He knew what it was like to not have control of yourself, to desperately cling to the smallest bits of _yourself_ left while everyone kept on taking and taking until you were simply a shadow of who you were. Bruce knew what it was like to be a failed experiment, to be a tool for people to use. He has caused destruction as he tried to cling to his own humanity and Bucky, Bucky _got that_ , got the feeling of being not strong to enough to keep your head straight, to lose to your own mind and body, to _destroy_ without your consent.

(They were not close, not really, but they fully understood each other in ways none of the other Avengers probably could.)

Loki was a little bit of a wildcard to him at first but soon enough, he and the younger Asgardian were good friends. It surprised most of them, simply because Loki loved to play tricks while he preferred to mind his own business, Loki loved the attention at times while he blended into the shadows. The two of them found similarities far more important than their differences, though.

(Bucky couldn’t sleep, couldn’t get the image of Steve dying out of his head. He has always been the one to protect Steve, keep him out of trouble and make sure he would live for another day. He couldn’t do it for now, though, because he wasn’t cleared to go out on missions with them. He couldn’t watch his best friend, his _brother’s_ back and he felt helpless, more so after this mission which actually landed Steve on bedrest.

He was in the living room, letting sound of the TV wash over him when Loki, who seemed to have come out of nowhere, sat down beside him, a mug of hot chocolate in his hand which he offered to Bucky. The former assassin, took the beverage, trusting the Asgardian and took a sip. The other man simply sat beside him, silent for a few moments. “I know what it feels like to have to protect your brother. I’ve done as much for Thor and I will never stop feeling as if it would not be enough someday. That someday, I would be too late to save him.”

Bucky relaxed with the knowledge that someone _fully understood_.)

And then there’s Tony. The boy was so _young_ , so _naïve_ about the world and yet he chose to fight—for people who loathed him because he was much better than they could ever be. He chose to help the world, to keep it safe as much as he could. He chose to protect people even when they condemned him when he couldn’t save everyone. He chose to keep on fighting, keep on defending people, because he saw it as _his_ responsibility.

(“It scares me sometimes,” Steve started one day, while they were taking a stroll out, “Tony’s so willing to throw his own life away just to save everyone. People think he’s selfish and self-centered and, other horrible things but if you learned to see beyond the masks?” the blonde had smile, small but filled with fondness, “He’s one of the most selfless people I know. He’s one of the kindest and brightest and…” he breaks off and shakes his head slightly, as I he was trying to find the right words.

They keep walking. It was silent for a moment. “He’s like a star,” Steve continued, “you see him shine from afar, a small blinking light and you wouldn’t know how big or how bright it actually is until you actually try to get close.”

They didn’t talk about it again but Bucky knew it was because Steve understood that he did [does] see what the blond—what their closest _friends_ —saw in the boy.)

Tony was selfless beyond imaginable but he also knew the line between being kind and being used by someone. He was never afraid to say no when he knew the other person was simply using him. He had a sharp mind and Bucky _adored_ that. He loved Tony’s sarcasm, the way he would not let someone walk all over him. He loved the way Tony pushed people to learn, knew just how to encourage them to want to learn more.

Tony was amazing and he couldn’t get enough.

Watching Tony had become a habit, one he couldn’t shake or outgrow. It seemed at every turn, the boy had a surprise under his sleeves. Tony never did what was expected and even _if_ he did what was expected, he did it in the most spectacular way, in a way which would leave people either breathless or shaking their heads. He seemed to enjoy keeping people on their toes, gleefully watching their surprised faces.

(“He has that effect on people.” Howard chuckled, fondness shining in his eyes as he watched his son gesture widely, animatedly, in the center of an enraptured crowd. “If they’re not jealous of him, they want to worship the ground he walks on.” He tilted the whiskey glass he’s been holding since the beginning of the night towards a girl who seemed to half in love with the boy already.

Bucky hummed, felt something inside him clench and thought to himself, _can’t really blame them_.)

Tony never failed to surprise him at every turn but there were three instances he would never forget.

The first one, Tony was scolding a man, practically twice as big as he was and had almost a foot and a half over him. It was also noteworthy that the man had a military stance, and one who seemed to have been in the military for a long while.

Tony’s arms were moving everywhere, lips moving too fast to be read. His brows were in a deep frown, nose scrunched the tiniest bit to show his displeasure. Buck couldn’t help but think of an angry kitten.

A few moments later, he saw the other man nod and say something. From Bucky’s place he could read the man’s lips, forming an apology. That was when he noticed the two boys with them. The one in front of the bigger man looked like him and was quite big as well, leading Bucky to the assumption they were probably father and son. The other boy, this one much smaller, was standing just behind Tony, a stuffed lion in his arms, dirtied but in good condition.

The bigger man looked down at his son, expectant, while Tony laid a hand on top of the other boy’s head, a reassurance, Bucky assumed, as the taller boy hesitantly spoke. Bucky couldn’t really read the boy’s lips, seeing as he wasn’t moving them as much, but he could assume it was an apology as well, based from how the other one shyly nodded while Tony beamed, the father of the other boy obviously letting out a relieved sigh.

Later, Tony would tell him the bigger boy was bullying the smaller one, and that the father reasoned his son was simply _pulling the other kid’s pigtails_. “So I told him abuse shouldn’t be condoned and seen as a sign of affection. I mean, if you like someone, you don’t ruin their day and make a bad impression, do you? No! You do something nice and hope they appreciate it. I told him to teach his son good things, not things that would turn him into one of those bullies in school—someone everybody hates but never had the guts to go against.”

(It reminded him of Steve before he became Captain America—always standing up to the bullies).

[Logically, he knew Tony could probably take on the bigger man, but all he could think of whenever he remembered the incident was a kitten trying to meow a tiger into submission](none).

The second one, he was beyond ashamed because he shouldn’t have been surprised in the first place.

Steve was usually his only partner (opponent) on drills, Natasha on certain occasions, because he didn’t trust most of them. Eventually, Thor and Loki were paired with him as well, since he couldn’t accidentally kill either of them. Hulk was never an option as an opponent except for Thor and Loki, but sometimes he would get paired with him if it was a tag-team sort of practice. He’s even gone against Clint a few times and was paired with him more often because they were both long range assets for the team.

The one person he’s never fought with _or_ against was Tony.

All along Bucky thought it was because Steve didn’t trust him with Tony. As it turned out, Steve didn’t trust _Tony_ to go easy on _him_ , he realized as he stared at the ceiling, his back on the mat, confused. He could hear most of them snicker and the few who were trying to _pretend_ they were not laughing and he couldn’t move because. Well. That was not something he expected. He has been watching Tony have a go with all the other Avengers but it seemed like all his observations were useless since Tony still caught him off guard. He was a trained Hydra assassin, damn it! He taught Natasha everything she knew now, which he could tell was eventually taught to Tony.

The boy— _call me boy one more time and I will_ end _you_ —Tony, wasn’t as strong as either him or Steve. He wasn’t even as strong as Clint and he was the only one who wasn’t enhanced in some form, but he was quick, _agile_ , and was incredibly _creative_. He knew how to use his opponent’s body against them, and when and how to use his own body to his advantage. He could somehow quickly calculate his opponent’s movement, finding a quick way to disable them. Moreover, he could quickly use whatever was closest as a weapon, probably from either Natasha or Peggy herself.

When he got his bearings, he sat up and everyone else who was watching stopped bothering to hide their amusement and laughed loudly. Tony looked so proud of himself that he didn’t have the heart to feel insulted. Instead, he gave himself a mental pat on the back for being the cause of _that_ look.

“You shouldn’t have underestimated Tony, James.” Thor said with a smile, leaning back on the wall. He was still trying to get Thor to call him Bucky because James was too formal, too common.

“You were the one who taught me not to underestimate anyone.” Natasha smirked, arms across her chest.

Loki hummed, slowly twirling a wooden staff Steve made him practice with. “What was that Midgardian saying? You got your ass handed to you?”

He would have defended himself, claim he had not underestimated Tony, but he realized he probably did. It wasn’t a conscious decision, he was sure of that. He knew how Tony fought and has seen him fight with all the other Avengers. He knew Tony purposely made himself appear smaller, _weaker_ than he actually was and Bucky _knew_ that but somehow, Tony still managed to fool him, so to speak. That was why he was caught so completely off guard and had rendered all his observations useless.

A large part of him was ashamed to have lost to someone as young and as small as Tony was. A larger part, though, was damn _proud_ to be part of a team where this young man existed.

The third one, and probably his favourite one, was a week before Steve and Howard’s wedding.

It was an ordinary day, really, but realizations come at the most unexpected time.

He knew Tony baked. The whole tower knew Tony baked. He wasn’t at _pâtissier_ level and he did fuck up more than just two baked goods, but when he baked something he was an expert at, it was bound to be delicious.

Bucky has never seen Tony bake, though.

Well. Until he has.

He and Steve have just finished a round in the gym and was cooling off before they hit the showers. They were on their way to the kitchen to grab a light snack to stave off the hunger, seeing as it’s almost lunch anyway.

AC/DC’s _[You Shook Me All Night Long](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zakKvbIQ28o)_ played softly in the background as they entered the kitchen and Bucky just, _froze_.

Tony was there, obviously baking, in just a tank top and basketball sorts. His bangs was tied up to keep it away from his face and an apron wrapped around his body. He has smudges of flour here and there and _god_ he looked absolutely _breath-taking_ and Bucky just wanted to kiss him and, wow, okay, that was kind of new.

He looked at Steve who stopped in his tracks when he seemed to realize Bucky wasn’t following him anymore. They had a conversation with their eyes, a feat that took a little too long to regain. Bucky looked like he was about to pass out while Steve, the jerk, was practically _beaming_ and said, “Took you long enough,” and turned his back to the brunet to continue is journey to the fridge,

Later, they would sit down and talk in Bucky’s room, which used to be Steve’s before the blond moved to Howard’s room. He would panic and Steve would be calm, would tell him to take the chance, to take a risk for something _more_ and Bucky would be on edge for the rest of the week.

(“Give him some credit, Buck. Tony’s a good kid, you might be surprised.”

Oh. He _knew_ Tony was a good person but whether or not Bucky would handle the rejection well, that was up for debate. He didn’t want things to be awkward simply because he was too afraid to be in the presence of the genius.

When he said so to Steve, the blond simply shook his head with a small, fond smile.)

Now, as he watched his best friend dance with his husband, he took a deep breath and turned to the young man standing right beside him and held out his hand, “Wanna dance?” Tony looked surprised but delighted as he reached his own hand towards Bucky’s, a light flush on his softly tanned skin.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist while the younger man placed his own arms around Bucky’s neck. They swayed softly to the[music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uuJebKFFzrY), the acoustic guitars blending well with the singer’s voice. It must’ve been Howard who chose the song, knowing Steve listened to One Direction, Carly Rae Jepsen and Justin Bieber—Starks seemed to have great taste for music.

Bucky holds Tony tighter, still gentle but firmer, and he could feel the younger man do the same. Tony was almost a head shorter, the top of his head just reaching Bucky’s lips. He let his jaw rest by the younger man’s temple. They didn’t even seem like they were trying to dance anymore, simply hugging while swaying from side to side.

“I love you.” Bucky whispered, nuzzling the younger man’s head. He could feel Tony’s breath hitch, hear that air lodge in his throat. He knew, even if Tony didn’t feel the same, they would still be friends, that Tony wouldn’t let it be awkward. He valued the younger man’s friendship more than anything but Steve was right—you never know the chances unless you take the risk.

“I know.” Tony replied, just as softly and, okay. Maybe Steve was right and suddenly, Bucky can _breathe_. The, _I love you, too_ was not explicitly mentioned but he knew what the younger man meant anyway.

Bucky chuckled, a little breathless, “Great. You just ruined the moment by Han Solo-ing me.” He probably looked deranged, by how big he could feel his smile was, but that was okay. Tony returned his feelings and yeah, he could totally do this. Besides, he could tell the younger man was probably smiling just as widely as he was.

“Please.” Tony huffed, tightening his arms around Bucky’s neck. “It wouldn’t be us if we don’t have ruined moments.”

Bucky simply turned his head and let his lips rest against Tony’s temple, the smile, softer now, still firmly on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo. I'm on [Tumblr](http://starkbarnes-lovechild.tumblr.com/).


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